


Aeipathy

by pressedinthepages



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Come Swallowing, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, If You Squint - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: While trying to fix some of Geralt's clothes, reader decides that he's better without them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 129





	Aeipathy

**Author's Note:**

> no request/prompt here, this is just self-indulgent pwp

“My Gods, Geralt, how long have you had this thing?!?” Your voice echoes around the tiny room in the inn as you hold up one of Geralt’s shirts. You had noticed a small hole in one of your own, so once you finished stitching it up, you instructed Geralt to give you any of his that were in a similar state.  _ This,  _ however, was ridiculous.

There is a grand total of two shirts in front of you, one of which Geralt had literally taken from his back. They are identical to each other, both black with buttons that clasp asymmetrically across the front. You love these shirts on him, but you realized as they sat before you that they were literally the only ones he owned.

They were also littered with holes, tiny tears in the fabric stretching from numerous spots that Geralt had already sewn up himself. It was a wonder that either shirt was still intact, the spots that weren’t held together by string worn and pilling from what could be  _ years  _ of near-constant use.

Geralt only hums, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you fret. He has been sitting patiently on the edge of the bed as you work, his eyes following the movement of your fingers as you deftly push and pull the needle through fabric.

“We should find a tailor, get a few more of these for you so you don’t wear them out so easily,” you murmur as you gingerly fold the cloth in your hands. It would certainly be a stretch to call it a shirt anymore, but you figure that if you ripped it up and cleaned it, it would make for some good bandages.

Geralt stretches lazily, broad shoulders rippling as he lifts his arms above his head. You watch as the skin of his torso stretches taut, littered by decades of scars. He relaxes back down, resting his elbows on his knees and regards you with a level gaze. 

His golden eyes warm you, heat creeping up your cheeks and down to your core as he shifts ever so slightly, spreading his thighs on the bed. You bend, setting the needle and thread back into their place in your pack before rising, smoothing your skirts as you do.

You hum lightly as you cross the room towards Geralt, his eyes watching your every movement. He sits up, hands resting on his knees as you stop between them. You reach down and set a hand on his cheek, tenderly regarding the Witcher you have wrapped around your finger.

“Although,” you whisper, “maybe you can just go without one for a while…”

Geralt smirks as you move to straddle his legs, gently resting your weight on him as you lean to kiss him. He hums against your lips as he winds his hands around your waist, one drifting lower to squeeze your ass. You chuckle into his mouth, running your hands along his shoulders and down his chest, muscles twitching under your fingers. 

One of Geralt’s hands moves to the lacing on the front of your bodice, tugging roughly until it finally relents under his touch. You shrug the garment from your shoulders and thread your fingers through the silver silk of which his hair is woven. 

Geralt tilts his head, pressing his lips along the sweep of your jaw and down your neck. His teeth glance over your pulse, slow and careful, a wave of arousal crashing into your core. You grind against him, feeling him hard and straining beneath his trousers.

You bring your hands to Geralt’s shoulders and push, forcing him backward to lay on the soft furs covering the bed. You rise back up, keeping him still under you with a hand on his stomach. His hands move to your thighs, traveling beneath your skirts to touch any bit of you he can. 

Geralt’s eyes watch your every movement, burning amber setting you alight under his gaze. You pull your chemise off, goosebumps rising across your skin as the warm evening air envelops you. 

Geralt clenches his fingers against your legs, a soft sound escaping his lips. “Simply gorgeous,” he breathes, his eyes trailing heavily along your form. You’ll never tire of seeing him like this, pliable and reverent beneath you. 

You hum as you lift yourself, pressing your palm firmly against Geralt’s chest. “Stay,” a simple enough command, but Geralt is stubborn, typically relentless in his want. However, tonight, he does as he is bid, only a low growl betraying his impatience as you stand before him.

Your fingers hook into the waist of your skirts and pull, letting the light fabric pool around your feet along with your underclothes, already soaked in your arousal. Geralt inhales deeply and flushes, hips moving of their own accord, searching for any relief you may seek to give. 

A smirk graces your lips as you take him in, drinking in the sight of the great White Wolf, writhing and needy just from the sight of you. Your hands drift up his legs, and when they settle at the laces of his trousers Geralt keens through his teeth, the sound cutting through your skin.

You hastily untie the knots, tearing the leather down his legs and throwing them behind you. Geralt’s cock is heavy with arousal, already leaking precome against his hip. His eyes are dark with lust, honey dripping into the dead of night.

“Scoot back a bit, love,” you whisper, tapping lightly on his knee. He moves slowly, settling on the bed fully and sitting up on his elbows. You can’t help the snicker that escapes you as you climb onto the bed, crawling to rest over him. 

Geralt wraps a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to him in a bruising kiss. He is overwhelming, his hunger sweeping through you in a gust of wind that robs you of your breath. He tastes of mulled wine and honey, sweet on your tongue as he holds you close.

“I want to taste you,” his voice is gravel against your lips, dark and needy as you buck against him. 

“Well, who would I be to deny a request like that?” you tease, pushing Geralt back down once more. You move forward, setting your knees on either side of his head as you brace yourself on the headboard. Geralt grabs your hips impatiently, yanking them down to bring your cunt to his mouth.

He sets a relentless pace, licking and sucking along your slit as you throw your head back with a moan. You can feel the need in him, something desperate seeping from his movements under you. His tongue flicks and twists around your core, lightning flying through you as he starts to fuck into you with it. His nose brushes against the apex of your core as you rut against him, wild and raging as your climax approaches.

“Oh, Geralt, please,  _ please,”  _ you babble, nails digging into the wood of the headboard.

Geralt squeezes his hands into your hips, holding you to him as he wraps his lips around you and sucks,  _ hard,  _ and you fall apart, plummeting through the sky, blinded by pleasure that holds tight to you and courses through your veins as you groan his name. 

Geralt is bucking beneath you, thrusting into the air as he watches you climax above him. In the haze of your pleasure, you reach a hand back and wrap around his length, hard and warm in your hand. You pump him once, twice, and he moans against you, spilling onto his stomach as he ruts blindly into your grasp.

Your legs shake, wilting with the strain of holding you upright through your orgasm. Geralt’s grip relaxes and he turns his head to place a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh before you gingerly lift yourself off of him, swinging one of your legs back and flopping next to him on the bed. He rolls over you, strong arms bracketing you between them as he hovers above you. 

He leans down to press his lips against yours. You taste yourself, sharp and sweet on his tongue, sending a fresh wave of heat to your cunt. You let your hands move down his chest, sweeping through the marks of his spend. You pull back and catch his eyes before lifting your fingers, licking and sucking the evidence of his climax. The growl that is pulled from Geralt’s chest is deep, something primal in its presence.

Geralt moves above you, sitting on his heels as he spreads your legs. He hums as he slides a hand down your cunt, sharp edges lining the relief of pleasure that soars through you. His cock hangs still hard, heavy between his legs before he moves forward, slowly rocking his hips against you as he runs his length through your folds. 

A low rumble of laughter claws out of his chest when you whine, impatiently grinding against him. 

“Impatient,” Geralt chides, a grin on his face. These moments that you share, where the facade of emotionlessness fades and gives way to the deeply human natures of him make your heart swell, gratified in his trust in you. 

“You love it,” you groan as you feel the tip of his cock press against you, taking your breath away in a moan as he bottoms out inside of you. Geralt clenches his jaw as he stills for a moment, placing his hands behind your knees and pushing them towards your chest. The stretch, the burn, the fill, it’s almost too much. Almost.

You clench your cunt around him and Geralt huffs, his final thread of self-control shattering in your grasp. You reach up, hooking a finger around the medallion that hangs from his neck. You pull,  _ hard,  _ forcing him deeper inside of you as your other hand bunches itself in the furs beneath you.

“ _ Move,”  _ you murmur, the sweet lilt of your voice softening the edges of your demand. Geralt shifts his hips, pulling almost all of the way out of you before slamming back against you, rocking the headboard against the wall with the force.

His hips snap to yours, the sound echoing around the room with each thrust. Geralt is animalistic in his pursuit of your pleasure, teeth bared and nails scratching your skin where he holds you. But in his eyes is something  _ more,  _ something adoring and effortless, and with each flutter of your walls around his length, you can see him slipping further and further into his own worship of you.

Geralt adjusts, pushing your legs further apart and spearing quick and deep within you, splitting you on his cock. You cry out, your fingers still wrapped around the chain of his medallion as your body is overtaken by pleasure, the pain at the edges blurring into a sudden and powerful climax.

“Ah, ah,  _ fuck, Geralt!”  _ you exclaim as lightning roars through you, exploding behind your eyes as your cunt clenches like a vice around Geralt. Your heartbeat thrums just under your skin, everything amplified and roaring in your ears before it is suddenly overtaken by a deafening emptiness. 

Geralt’s pace quickens in your climax, faltering as he chases after you. He spills within you with a hiss of your name on his lips, thrusting steadfastly through his orgasm. His spend comes in hot spurts in your cunt, thick and endless as he stills in you.

Your body gives out, your limbs becoming jelly as you sag back into the furs. Geralt moves slowly, pulling out of you and setting your legs down on the bed with as much tenderness as he can. He moves to lay beside you, settling on his side as he runs his fingers along the skin of your middle.

You lay in silence for a while, just sharing the space to recenter yourselves. You turn your head, catching Geralt already looking at you, deep in thought. You grin, your smile lopsided in the bliss of being his. 

“What are you thinking about, love?” you whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Hmm,” he responds, lost in his own thoughts. “You’re so...so  _ soft… _ it’s so nice…”

You quietly laugh as his eyes fall closed, his hand still on your stomach as he drifts sleepily. You turn into his arms, tucking your nose into his neck and holding him close as he falls into the sweet clutches of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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